


Homecoming

by AdventTraitor



Category: Magi: The Labyrinth of Magic
Genre: M/M, Sinja
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-03
Updated: 2016-10-03
Packaged: 2018-08-19 07:29:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8195936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AdventTraitor/pseuds/AdventTraitor
Summary: Ja'far realizes that his king's absence has a bigger impact on him than he'd thought.





	

**Author's Note:**

> OK but like none of us live in magi canon anymore am I right?? Yeah???? Let's ignore it from now on. The theme of this fic is Islands by Hey Ocean! Do me a favor and listen to it while reading, just trust me.

The day was a normal one in the sense that the sun rose, and the people with it to perform their duties as they had the day before, and the day before that. Merchants prepared their stalls, farmers tended their fields, military servicemen and women donned their uniforms…and yet, there was something different about this day. The air was thick with tension; it settled in every movement, every word spoken, a subtle excitement that wasn’t quite ready to exert itself fully. Quick smiles exchanged more easily, words were charged with more enthusiasm than might be normal for such an early hour, and the day began with a quiet, determined optimism.

Work had to be done before ceremony, after all, and what occasion was more worth celebrating than the king’s return after a long absence?

The scribes in parliament shared the rest of the country’s sentiment, working more efficiently than they might have any other day. They scurried quickly between desks and filing systems, scrolls tucked under arms and parchment in hand. Ja’far paused in his own work for a moment, watching the subtle change in work ethic first thing in the morning, more amused than exasperated that this wasn’t the norm. Everyone needed something to look forward to, after all.

Himself included.

Though he had spoken to Sinbad many times during his absence using the mirror in Yamuraiha’s study, it was never as fulfilling as having a conversation with him in person. In the palace, there was a possibility privacy; speaking long distance required going to a semi-public area, usually with other generals or officials in close proximity. In person, Ja’far could smack Sinbad on the back of the head when he said something inappropriate, and he in turn could let his hand rest just a moment too long on Ja’far’s back as he looked over his shoulder at one document or another. They could steal away for an hour, maybe, to Sinbad’s rooms for more than one errant touch before their absence was noted too strongly—

Ja’far raised his eyebrows at himself. It really _had_ been a while.

Quickly, he shook his head to rid his mind of such thoughts, and instead focused on his work, that he might have more time later to prepare for Sinbad’s homecoming.

The day progressed too quickly for Ja’far to finish what he had hoped to, but just this once, he set his quill down at a reasonable time despite the unfinished business. Sinbad had estimated late evening for his return: _“You will see us into port just as the sun begins to caress the ocean’s surface,” he smiled, amber eyes full of fondness and mischief and narrowing ever so slightly in that way they did when he was lifting robes and pushing legs apart with deft, calloused hands—_

Damn. Ja’far blinked, realizing he’d stopped walking in the middle of the hallway, much to the confusion of his subordinates. A smile and lilted excuse and he waved them off, moving again toward the kitchens, biting down hard on his lower lip.

Honestly, what was wrong with him? Sinbad would never let him forget how needy he was if he found out.

He was _not_ going to find out.

Once he was convinced that the palace was adequately prepared for the celebration, Ja’far let himself look out the window to see how much time was left before he should leave for the docks; Sinbad was perhaps the best sailor the world had ever seen, and had yet to be wrong about arrival times. Ja’far’s eyes widened when he saw the sun nearly set, the horizon hued a deep orange and bleeding into black with pinpricks of light just above.

Sinbad was going to complain about this _all night long._

As he moved through the palace, Ja’far heard a commotion run through the halls, undoubtedly heralding his king’s arrival. Very quick, their trek from the ship to the palace, Ja’far thought. No matter. The servants and other generals would see him settled in and begin the festivities. Ja’far moved instead to his own chambers, choosing to put off the pouting stare Sinbad would give him for his tardiness in favor of changing the ink-stained apron on the front of his robes to a fresh one.

He could hear the celebration of Sinbad’s return long before he arrived to the large courtyard that held big events such as this, his steps quiet as he weaved between the servants and officials that were permitted to be on the high dais with the king. Hinahoho glanced over as Ja’far appeared, raising a glass at him from across the floor. Ja’far nodded in return, smiling softly as he continued forward. It took several minutes, but Ja’far made it through the throngs of people toward the deep sound he knew to be Sinbad’s truly happy laugh. He spotted his long, violet ponytail and saw that Sinbad was seated in his usual chair. Ja’far moved quickly, taking a mug from a server who offered before sitting silently at his king’s right side.

“And here I thought you had been kidnapped.”

Ja’far’s eyes closed, hiding his smile by taking a sip of spiced wine.

“I was thinking about the possibilities, which enemies would even be capable of of catching my most valued advisor unawares, but then I realized the only truth that could exist.”

Ja’far sighed, glancing to the side without moving to face him. “And what truth is that, my king?”

He saw Sinbad lean forward, but didn’t move himself.

“You’re more concerned about your paperwork than you are about me.”

Ja’far let himself smile. “Not even paperwork could be more important, Sin.”

“Oh, it truly is a day to celebrate! More wine, yes,” Sinbad grinned at the serving girl, whose face flushed at his attention. “To think I’d see a smile _and_ hear something other than a slight to my intelligence from your lips on the same day.” Sinbad leaned in, putting his mouth to Ja’far’s ear without moving _too_ close. “I’ve missed you,” he murmured quietly, the words almost lost to the jubilant sounds around them.

Ja’far let his eyes close, not even able to feel shame for the goosebumps that appeared just at the sound of his king’s voice.

“And I, you,” he answered just as quietly, knowing he would hear.

“It was a long voyage,” Sinbad said at a more normal volume; perhaps a bit on the loud side, even. “I think I need to recover a bit.” His eyes never left Ja’far’s, thick eyebrows raising.

Ja’far barely managed to avoid giving him a _look_ , and instead rose as he did, bowing his head subserviently. “I shall make sure everything is in order for your rooms then, hm?” he asked, his hands tucking into his sleeves over his chest.

“Yes, come along,” Sinbad beckoned, looking like he wanted to put a hand on Ja’far, but he refrained. Instead, he moved forward through the crowd, politely refusing invitations to conversation with smiled apologies. The people thinned, the noise growing more distant, the light confined to the braziers on the hallways instead of the large bonfires lit outside.

Once safely in the hallways, Sinbad let his hand touch on Ja’far’s back, which slid to his waist when the doors to his private chambers were closed securely behind them.

The servants had lit candles in his rooms, a flickering light that caused dancing shadows on their faces as Sinbad turned to face him fully. He wasted no time, his free hand on Ja’far’s cheek to lift his face as he leaned down for a kiss, pulling him closer as the seconds dragged on and moved by too quickly at the same time. Ja’far’s hands smoothed up Sinbad’s chest, his fingers finding all of the familiar grooves of his metal vessels until they touched on broad shoulders, and around the back of his neck.

Ja’far had no idea how long they stood there, silent but for the wet sound of their mouths together, until they had to part for air. Sinbad kept their faces close, not moving the hand on Ja’far’s face but to slide his thumb across the freckles of one cheek.

“You should be with your people,” Ja’far all but whispered, still breathing heavily after a few moments apart from his king. “They celebrate for you, after all.”

“My people have me,” Sinbad replied, voice low and raspy. “They have me every day, whether I’m here or elsewhere. Right now, _I_ want to have _you._ ”

Ja’far let out a breathless chuckle, allowing Sinbad to pull him forward. He sat on the edge of his bed, pulling Ja’far onto his lap with ease and running his hands down his sides. Ja’far hiked his own robes up as he fell onto his king’s legs, allowing him to sit more comfortably. Sinbad was already pulling at the obi around his waist, discarding it and pulling Ja’far’s robes open after. He slid his hands over slim shoulders, watching the fabric cascade down to the floor. His sights set to Ja’far’s shirt next, fingers pulling at the hem until it was pulled over Ja’far’s head, knocking his keffiyeh off where they quickly joined the rest of his clothing on the ground.

Sinbad set his mouth to Ja’far’s neck, his hands large on jutting hipbones, raising goosebumps as they smoothed over pale skin. Ja’far let his hands fist in dark hair for a moment, eyes closed and breath deep, before he discarded Sinbad’s turban, then his metal vessels, one by one, as often as he could pull Sinbad away from his skin to lift them over his head and hair.

Ja’far raised himself to his knees to unknot the shawl around his king’s shoulders, letting it fall to the bed before his fingers traced a path down both of Sinbad’s arms, feeling the muscles tensing beneath his touch. Sinbad understood, pausing a moment to pull his bracers off, setting them gently to the side with his other vessels before pulling off the rest of his robes and tossing them aside with much less care.

Ja’far let Sinbad pull him onto the bed properly, settling onto his back against the plush blankets and furs, his head supported by a ridiculous amount of pillows as Sinbad sat before him, looking him up and down for a time. He lifted one of Ja’far’s legs by the ankle, pressing a kiss to the end of a ragged scar before setting it down again and pushing his legs apart at the knees. His hands slid up the inside of Ja’far’s thighs slowly, savoring the touch as though he’d never felt anything like it before.

He had, of course. Too many times to count.

“Sin,” Ja’far breathed.

He hummed in response, not relenting in the slow sliding of his hands against every part of Ja’far he could reach. When they were on his waist, sliding into the natural dip where his hands gripped instinctively, Ja’far put his hands over his king’s, gently stopping the movement.

Sinbad looked up to Ja’far’s face, his hooded eyes, lips swollen and parted for breath, and he couldn’t resist. Ja’far had counted on it, raising his arms as Sinbad settled on top of him, into the welcoming cradle of his open thighs, letting their mouths meet again, no pretense to the touch as he pressed forward into Ja’far’s mouth with a slow burning need. Deft fingers pulled the tie in Sinbad’s hair loose, the strands falling haphazardly around them and tangling with their movements.

Sinbad made love to him gently, with more tenderness than he usually had the patience to afford either of them. His hands were firm, but not harsh, hips rolling with a slow determination, setting a pace more concerned with the feeling than with a need for completion. Ja’far didn’t bother to try and quiet himself, gasping for air and breathing out soft moans, his thighs gripping as best as they could around Sinbad’s waist. He met Sinbad’s pace, sighing deeply, contentedly, as he relaxed into it, his head falling back to the pillows when Sinbad’s mouth moved to his neck, his shoulders. Pale fingers tangled into dark hair when his back arched up, large hands falling down from waist to hips to lower back, lifting him slightly from the bed to allow him the movement he sought.

“Sin, Sin, Sinbad—“ Ja’far stuttered, eyes closed as he adjusted to the new angle.

Sinbad groaned in response, changing his movements to move deeper, harder, anything to get more of that sound from Ja’far, to satisfy him so completely he couldn’t tell the difference between his bed and paradise.

Ja’far cried out, tensing, his fingernails digging into Sinbad’s back until there were crisscrossing, angry red lines across its entirety. Finally, he lay still, chest heaving with exertion as he watched through slitted eyes until Sinbad finished, the sound from his chest more like a rumble of thunder than a product of pleasure.

Their mouths met again, much less coordinated, but just as loving, slow and deep and perfect. Only when they were too tired did they part, moving to face each other on their sides, fingers caressing until sleep finally took over.

Ja’far stayed the entire night, which was a rare occurrence in itself, but became an unheard of event when he wasn’t up and getting ready with the sun the next day.

Sinbad woke slowly, eyes closed as he moved to stretch. One arm was trapped, he realized, underneath someone. He pried his eyes apart unhappily, until he saw snowy hair and freckles and pale skin and the memory of the night before hit him all at once, and he smiled wider than he had in months. A warm content settled in his chest, and he squeezed his arms around Ja’far just the slightest bit tighter, unable to resist the urge.

Ja’far sighed in response, nuzzling back into the crook of Sinbad’s neck once he had settled.

“I’d give anything to wake like this every morning,” Sinbad whispered.

“You can’t go on ten-month excursions every time you want affection from me. Parliamentary veto. It’s against the law.”

“Sounds serious. What happens if I break the rules?” Sinbad chuckled.

“No more nice mornings. Or nights. Just lots of paperwork. Now…shhh. I’m willing to lay here a while longer.” Ja’far’s words were slurred in the way sleep causes, making him nothing short of endearing.

“I’ll stay for as long as you want me,” Sinbad whispered into Ja’far’s hair.

“Forever isn’t long enough.”


End file.
